Dragon Ball: Chaotic Universe
by Arius Miura de Galdri
Summary: Chapter 2: As the World Martial Art's Tournament continues, a quartet of new villains make their presence known, and Trunks finds himself fighting for his life for the first time in five years!
1. Prologue: Dark Agenda

_NOTICE: This story is the sequel to "Dragon Ball: Chaotic Future" which you can access through my profile. Enjoy!_

_**A grave betrayal at the hands of his once trusted allies led to the deaths of those Miura held most dear, and though the Genjin warriors Kalen and Kirien paid for their treachery with their lives, the victory came at far too high a price for the former Emperor and his companions.**_

_**Five years have passed since the final conflict…**_

_**A new threat has emerged from the past, one that will force Miura, who chose the fate of an exile and vowed to leave his old life far behind him, to once again take up the struggle against an ancient evil. But will the disheartened warrior be willing to fight, or do the wounds from his last battle go far deeper than anyone had ever thought?**_

**Dragon Ball:**

**Chaotic Universe**

**PROLOGUE**

"**Dark Agenda."**

It watched.

Its target entered the darkened room slowly, his usually overpowering aura more subdued than it usually was. After a long day of nonstop work, the lavender-haired young man, despite his better than average strength and stamina, was clearly and deservedly exhausted, and after watching the not-quite-human warrior for the past few years, it knew that this was its best chance for success. While at full strength, the muscular, powerful young fighter would have no difficulty resisting its influence, but now, while he was fatigued and his mind was numbed from the day's work, the teal-eyed individual would most certainly be overwhelmed.

The man sat on the edge of his small bed; slowly, his arm muscles protesting every inch of the way, he removed his skintight, black sleeveless shirt, tossing it carelessly aside as he bent over to take off his dark yellow boots. Now, finding himself slightly more comfortable, the young man lay back, letting his exhaustion get the better of him. Soon after, without even crawling under his blankets, the wearied fighter drifted off into a deep sleep.

In one corner of the small room, a patch of shadow shone slightly darker than the rest of the dim chamber. A darkness filled with malice, a thing of pure, unthinkable evil slowly began to gather there, subtly calling upon all of its diminished power for this gambit. A feeling of wicked glee welled up within the miasma of darkness, causing the very air in the room to shudder and grow cold. Finally, after years of preparation, its patient planning would bear fruit. True, its three companions had already chosen and subdued their targets, but _it_ refused to settle for anything other than the best.

And this extraordinarily powerful, yet conspicuously _in_human warrior was, without question, the best that planet Earth had to offer…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trunks' dreams were troubled.

_Namek was a graveyard, littered with the bleached bones and decomposing remains of its once-wise people. The sky was dark, darker by far than it truly had been on that day, and bolts of flashing green lightning cast a sinister glow upon the surface of the planet. Kalen, his face a contorted mask of malicious pleasure, stood over him, his grey-green eyes alight with a madness that struck fear into the very core of his being. He couldn't move, he could barely even speak, and he knew that this was finally it… There would be no escape this time… Kalen pointed his hand toward him, his black-gloved palm glowing brightly with what would soon become certain death. The blast was unleashed; it swept over him, burning him and causing him to cry out. His flesh felt like it was being seared from his bones, the pressure around his brain was too much, too intense— _

His eyes shot open, wide with fear and the certainty that death was about to take him. He couldn't move; all he could do was stare blankly at the ceiling of his room at Capsule Corporation. Yes, his home. Capsule Corporation… West City… Earth… Far, far away from Namek, where he had nearly been incinerated by the treacherous Genjin criminal.

It never ceased to amaze him that, even though five years had passed, dark memories of his near-death at the Genjin's hands haunted him still. His defeat by Kalen had left many scars, and not just the numerous ones on his body, which his father would undoubtedly be impressed with, were he alive to see them. No, his _mind_ had suffered greatly as well, and it would take much longer to heal than his body had.

Eventually his paralyzed body responded to his commands, and he slowly sat up, ignoring the sharp aches and pains that shot through his protesting arms, legs, and back. Construction, Trunks was forced to admit, was not nearly as easy as he would have thought, and after five years of nonstop work and rebuilding, there was still plenty left to do. Earth was, however, finally returning to some semblance of order, and he liked to think that he had had a hand in that.

In fact, to prove how far the planet had come since it's near-destruction at the hands of first the androids, then Cell, then Tempest, _then_ the Genjins, several of the prominent leaders from around the world had decided to put on the first World Martial Arts Tournament in nearly thirty years. The announcement had been made several months ago, giving any interested parties enough time to prepare, and the event would be held in exactly two weeks. Despite his mother's prodding, Trunks had decided _not_ to enter the tournament, claiming that it would obviously be unfair for him, a warrior with the power of a Super Saiyan, to compete against what would probably amount to some near-amateur martial artists.

_Still_, he thought to himself as his eyes started to finally adjust to the darkness, _it may be fun to watch, at least. And who knows, maybe—_ Something from the edge of his field of vision caught his attention, and he leapt forward as a bolt of scintillating dark energy annihilated his small bed. Another blast, originating from the far corner of the room, coursed toward Trunks, who easily deflected it. Though it made almost no contact at all, the half-Saiyan's arm _still_ throbbed afterward, and the top layer of skin had been burned away.

"Show yourself!" Trunks commanded, assuming a defensive stance and scanning the room for any sign of his assailant. Nothing, other than an inky blackness that seemed to hover several feet away from him, seemed out of place. But this patch of darkness, the only possible source of the negative energy, exuded an aura of undisguised malevolence, clouding the room with its vile presence. _What the hell—_

Tendrils of shadow suddenly stretched toward him, and before he could adequately defend himself, Trunks was bound by bands of burning, pulsing dark power. No matter how he struggled, the half-Saiyan Prince was unable to free himself, and, if anything, the pressure around his immobilized body only increased as the minutes dragged on. Without warning, Trunks felt something, some _presence_ enter his mind, subtly attempting to usurp control of his body. Before it could assume complete dominion, Trunks decided that he'd had enough.

"Get… out… of… _my head_!" he screamed, dipping into the deep well of savage strength that dwelt within him. Immediately, Trunks' body was surrounded by an aura of brilliant, yellow-gold energy, and the small, darkened room was illuminated with the light of a Super Saiyan.

Amazingly, one patch of darkness remained, though the rest of the chamber was flooded with light. This floating miasma of loathsome, evil power hovered momentarily in the air before Trunks, as if paralyzed with shock. The bands of black energy that had held tightly to the Saiyan's body suddenly loosened, and as the shadowy haze pulled back and disappeared, it let loose with a bellow of hatred and rage that shook the whole of Capsule Corporation to its foundation, shattering nearly every window in the main compound, and more than a few in the surrounding city as well.

Allowing his Super Saiyan aura to die down, the wearied Trunks fell to his hands and knees, his body trembling, tingling with pain, and drenched in sweat. He kept his eyes clenched shut, trying to hold back the wave of nausea that had gripped him while in the clutches of that _thing_. He could hear footsteps approaching quickly from the hall, and he staggered—barely—to his feet. He turned around to face the door just as his mother burst in.

"Trunks, what the hell is going on?!" Bulma cried, her teal-eyes, a mirror image of Trunks' own, wide with concern, and more than a little fear. Her shoulder length hair, once a gorgeous shade of blue, now streaked with an incredible amount of silver and grey, was a mess, and the robe she wore had obviously been donned with haste. In her trembling hands, Bulma held a rifle, obviously having been ready to do battle with whoever, or whatever, had caused the sudden tremor that rocked most of the city. As she took in the state of Trunks' room, and the exhausted features of Trunks himself, Bulma gasped. "Trunks, are you alright? What happened?"

The purple-haired Prince remained silent, wondering how he was ever going to explain what had just occurred to his mother, when he wasn't quite sure himself…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had failed, miserably.

Somehow, the young warrior had sensed it's presence before it had been fully ready to execute the take-over. All of its planning, all of its patience for the last three years had been for naught, and that rankled it far more than simply failing…

_His power is far beyond what I had anticipated_, it was forced to admit, much to its chagrin. The dark miasma floated high above the now-active West City, watching the commotion that it had caused, inwardly spiteful that, despite having expelled almost all of its energy in that final shriek, not a single building had fallen. _What a shame…_

But, though it had failed to obtain the prize it had so unwavering sought out, the entity knew that there were other bodies, _powerful_ bodies, to be had elsewhere on the planet. One in particular had caught its attention some time ago: the green-skinned loner who never strayed from his home in the Yunzabit Heights; _he_ had power and skill that rivaled that of the teal-eyed quasi-human's. With a little work, the green one would make a fine substitute, to be sure.

With what would have been a grin of evil confidence had it a body to control, the dark entity turned its attention north, and it began its long flight to the place it and its companions had remained hidden since being freed from their floating prison almost six years ago.

_Soon, we will be free to roam this world again_, it thought, feeling something akin to happiness as it made its way slowly to rejoin its three companions. _And we will have what is rightfully ours, as Guardians…_


	2. Chapter 1: Tournament

**Dragon Ball:**

**Chaotic Universe**

**CHAPTER 1**

**Guardians Saga, Part I**

"**Tournament."**

Trunks awoke.

The warm dawn sun filtered in through the window above his bed, promising a beautiful day for the first World Martial Arts Tournament in almost three decades. He lay unmoving for a time, reveling in the morning's warmth, for there had been times in his life when he'd been sure that he'd never experience such a simple thing again.

Naturally, his thoughts then turned to the strange events that had happened in this very room just two weeks earlier…

_I can't help but think that I haven't seen the end of whatever _that_ was_, the Saiyan Prince thought darkly. _For so long we've had peace, and I'll be the first to admit that I've become complacent, but how could something so dark, so evil, have gotten a foothold here without my knowing it?_ He shook his head as he sat up, stretching his back and arms as he did so. _Whatever it is, I'll just have to deal with it whenever it shows up again. I'll have to fight it… alone._

For the first time in years, Trunks really, truly realized how alone he was here on the Earth. If something big was going to happen, it was in his hands and his alone to stop it, for who else was strong enough to aid him? He sighed, longing for the times when he knew he had powerful allies at his back: his father, Goku, Piccolo, Gohan, even Hanzo, Miura, and the others.

They were all gone.

"Trunks?" His mother's voice came to him from outside his door. "Are you up yet?"

_Leave it to her to be up and ready to go already_, Trunks thought, shaking his head. "Yeah, Mom. Just give me a few minutes, okay?"

"Not too long, though," Bulma replied. "We've still got a long flight ahead of us if we're going to get to the island in time." Her footsteps faded away as she walked down the hallway, more than likely heading to the kitchen to prepare a breakfast for her son.

Tossing the covers aside, the half-Saiyan rose to his feet, stretching a final time as he looked to his left, into the full-size mirror that hung upon his door. He stood in only a pair of grey shorts, his numerous scars appearing paler than his sun-darkened skin in the morning light. He brushed a strand of his shoulder-length, purple hair out from his eyes, sighing as he decided he'd never quite get used to the sight of all those scars.

He dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of dark grey pants and his typical, black tank-top. Stepping over to the mirror once more, the half-Saiyan warrior hurriedly pulled his lengthening hair into a loose ponytail, allowing the front-most portion to hang freely around his face. Trunks then moved over to sit on the edge of his bed, bending down to pull on a pair of worn yellow boots, when an object lying on the floor caught his attention.

Trunks' eyes remained locked on the long, cylindrical item as he tightly tied his laces, and he reached out for it as he stood, holding it firmly in his hand. The brightening light that filtered in through the window shone upon what appeared to be a long scabbard, jet black, with subtle silver characters of some alien language spiraling around it. The purple-haired Saiyan reached out with his other hand, gripping the end of the scabbard and slowly pulling out the elegant blade that was concealed within. This single weapon had never left his side in the four years that he'd possessed it, and he even slept with the blade beside his bed, so it was ever within his grasp.

He hadn't intended to bring it with him today, truthfully, but…

Soundlessly, without the hiss of steel that normally accompanied such actions, Trunks pulled the sword from its sheath, turning it so that the morning sunlight reflected off from the silver-white blade. The sword was long and slender, perhaps half the width of the one he had once carried, so many years ago, and it was perfectly straight, tapering to a piercing point. The edges of the blade were uncannily sharp, and from what Trunks could tell the weapon apparently never needed sharpening or even routine maintenance. His eyes moved slowly down the blade, checking needlessly for any nicks or flaws in the craftsmanship, though he knew he would find none; the hilt that he grasped in his right hand was dark brown, nearly black, and made from a wood not found on this planet. A series of intricate, masterfully done carvings covered this wooden handle, providing a sure and solid grip.

This was no ordinary sword, for it was the only one of its kind in the entire universe, having been crafted exclusively for him by the finest artisans on planet Galdria. It had been a gift, from Emperor Gabriel, in honor of all the times that Trunks had aided the people of Galdria over the past years, and to officially put to rest the ancient blood-feud between Saiyan and Galdrian. The blade, so Trunks was told, had been crafted from a rare and nearly unbreakable metal native to Galdria, and it would never dull or wear, at least not within Trunks' lifetime at any rate.

Trunks slid the blade home and tossed it over his back, securing the sheath's strap over his chest. Stretching one last time and wincing as his back cracked in several places, the Saiyan Prince left his room, marching steadily down the hallway and the mouth-watering scent of breakfast that awaited him in the kitchen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Flying would have been faster, you know."

Bulma shrugged, never taking her attention away from the wide windshield before her as she handled the controls of the Aircar like an old pro, which she of course was. "We _are_ flying," she said simply, a smile upon her lips.

"You know what I mean, Mom," Trunks retorted, rolling his eyes. "I could have had us there in less than an hour." From his place in the front, beside his mother, Trunks gestured to the form of the Aircar around them. "In this thing, we'll be lucky to get there in three."

"Just sit back and enjoy the ride for a change."

"Yeah, sure."

The vehicle sped through the clear, cloudless skies, leaving a trail of exhaust behind as it made its way south toward Papaya Island, the home of the twenty-fifth World Martial Arts Tournament. Below them, scattered throughout the countryside, Trunks could make out dozens of small villages—some of them closer to towns—that had sprung up during the last several years of peace. Humanity was slowly rebuilding what had been stolen away from them so many times, first by the androids and Cell, and followed later by Tempest, and most recently the two Genjin warriors, Kalen and Kirien. The sight of these settlements should have made Trunks feel proud, for he had played a big part in securing this newfound peace.

But instead…

_I just can't get that _thing_ off my mind_, he thought, watching the terrain fall away beneath the Aircar as they reached the ocean. Whatever the mysterious being that had attempted to usurp control of his body had been, it had shown no more signs of its presence over the past two weeks. _And that, I think, is what worries me most of all. I can't help but feel like it's still out there, watching and waiting for…_ His thought trailed off, for he honestly didn't know _what_ the dark entity may be biding its time for.

Bulma's voice pulled Trunks out from his brooding introspection.

"You know," she said, casting a sidelong glance at her son, "these tournaments are where Goku met a lot of his greatest allies for the first time. Yep," she continued with a nod, "I still remember when he fought Tien and Chiaotzu, and I'll _never _forget his big battle with Piccolo." A sly smile crept across her features. "And it's also where he and Chi Chi finally got together…"

Trunks rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to find my future wife at some tournament, Mom. Seriously, I think I've got a lot more important things to worry about." He sighed, turning his attention to the deep blue of the sea below.

"I'm just saying, Trunks, that I'm not getting any younger here. I'd like to have some grandkids someday, you know?" She sighed, knowing in her heart of hearts that that prospect seemed highly unlikely.

"Enough Mom, come on…" The half-Saiyan's tone showed that he was putting the subject to rest, once and for all.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but _you_ aren't getting any younger either, and—"

"Mom, enough!" He shook his head, and it was obvious to Bulma that something was really bothering her son, for he had never snapped at her like that before.

"You're still worrying about that thing that attacked you the other night?" Bulma asked, knowing full well that that was _exactly_ what Trunks was worrying about. She let out a nervous laugh, one that was supposed to sound confident and reassuring. "Just relax, dear. I mean, maybe it was nothing, you know? Maybe the place is just haunted."

"Yeah, right Mom," Trunks countered. "And we've lived there how many years, and nothing like that has ever happened before, or _since_?" He shook his head and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No, I don't think so."

At that, Bulma found herself speechless, and silence enveloped the Aircar as it sped onward toward its destination: the first World Martial Arts Tournament in nearly twenty-seven years.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The crowd roared.

Trunks exited the Aircar, greeted by the cries and cheers of those gathered to welcome him to Papaya Island, and the newly-rebuilt tournament arena. He sighed and shook his head, but only for a brief second before putting on a false smile and waving to the assembled people. Holding the door for his mother, Trunks helped the older woman out of the Aircar, blinking his eyes as dozens of camera flashes went off at the same time, nearly blinding him as surely as the begging cries for interviews from reporters nearly caused his ears to bleed.

_Come on, Trunks, keep your cool_, the teal-eyed hero silently said to himself. _You _are _sort of responsible for the last few years of peace here, so it's only natural that these people are going to look up to you, and treat you like some kind of celebrity…_ He still didn't think it fair, though; other warriors had aided him in attaining this peace, most of whom were now dead because of their efforts. _It's them_, he thought darkly. _16, Zellis, Iris, Clef, Elysia, Rika, Hanzo… _They_ all deserve this praise as much as I do…_

"Excuse me, please! Everyone, move aside!" a voice could be heard crying out above the general din. After a bit of pushing, shoving, threatening, and more than a little cursing, a short, balding man in a black suit and matching black sunglasses burst free from the crowd in front of Trunks and Bulma. Clearing his throat and scratching at his mustache—which was the same silvery blonde as the remainder of his hair—the newcomer bowed to the half-Saiyan and his mother.

"Oh my god!" Bulma exclaimed, pushing past Trunks and grabbing hold of the man's shoulders, shaking him as she went on. "I can't believe you're still alive! It's been such a long time!" The man stood up straight from his bow, returning Bulma's sudden embrace with a laugh.

"Come on, did you really think they'd put on a tournament without me?" the black-suited man asked, shaking his head. "I'm telling you, the only thing that kept me sane and alive during all the chaos of the last twenty years was knowing that if I died, these tournaments just wouldn't be any good at all!" He cleared his throat again, pulling away from Bulma and removing a cordless microphone from within his suit jacket. Turning to the assembled throng of people, he tossed his empty hand into the air, saying into the microphone: "Attention everyone, attention! We'd like to get this thing going, so if you'd all kindly see your way into the stadium, we can begin!" The crowd made a general sound of disappointment, but eventually they began to filter into the newly-rebuilt tournament stadium.

"Wow," Bulma said, sounding genuinely impressed. "I guess you've still got it, huh?"

"Of course," the tournament announcer said with a laugh. "You doubted me?" Waving goodbye to Trunks and his mother, the balding man turned and began making his way back through the mass of people and into the waiting arena. "See you again soon!" he called back to them, over his shoulder.

"Well, come on dear," Bulma said, turning her attention to her son. "We'd better get in there before all the good seats are taken." As she started to follow the dwindling crowd through the gates, she felt Trunks' hand fall on her shoulder. "What is it?"

"Come on, there's an easier way in than through _there_," he answered, gesturing absently toward the sky. Putting his arm around Bulma's waist, Trunks slowly floated into the air, smiling at his mother's cry of shock, and the way she clung to him, as if afraid he was going to drop her. "And don't worry about finding a seat," he continued as they rose higher. "I'm the guest of honor, remember?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trunks sighed.

He shifted in his seat, the same seat that he'd occupied for the past two hours. A hot, tropical sun beat down on him, and the constant, low murmur of the spectators around him was beginning to drive him crazy. Raising his bottle of water to his lips, Trunks drank, ignoring the tepidness of it. Putting the cap back on and setting the bottle on the bench next to him, Trunks took another look around the spacious arena.

It was basically a large, open-air stadium, much like you'd find for any other sport, with enough seats to easily hold several thousand people. He sat near the bottom, as close to the ring as was allowed, and as he looked up, he felt bad for those seated higher, for they really wouldn't be able to see much from such a height. The ring itself was square, and set in the middle of a large, grassy area broken only by a single stone path that connected the ring to the fighters' preparatory area beneath the stands. He looked up into the cloudless, deep blue sky, wondering how much longer they would have to wait.

_At least I don't have to endure any more ridiculous ceremonies_, he thought, a small smile creeping over his features. He and his mother, upon landing within the stadium, had been accosted by a group of orange-robed men, who quickly ushered them into the center of the ring, where they had stood for the better part of an hour as the spectators filtered into their seats. A man—apparently the newly-elected leader of Papaya Island's small but thriving community—had bestowed upon Trunks a heavily adorned, golden belt, signifying the fact that he was the _ultimate_ martial artist in all the world, no matter who won the tournament today. A band had played, fireworks and streamers had been let off, and no small number of little gifts and trinkets had been given to the purple-haired warrior and his mother before they had finally been allowed to take their seats. Those seats, of course, were arguably the best in the stadium, for they would be able to easily and comfortably watch each and every match.

And all of this had taken place at the same time as the qualifying matches, so Trunks had been unable to watch the elimination rounds, which he had been looking forward to.

_Enough of this pomp and ceremony already_, he thought. _Let's get to some fighting!_

As if reading his thoughts, Bulma let out a heavy sigh. "How long is this going to take?" she wondered aloud, her hand shielding her eyes from the midday sun as she gazed at the empty ring before her.

"We're sorry, ma'am," answered one of the many orange and brown-robed monks who seemed to be some sort of officials for the event. "The preliminary bouts are taking longer than expected. It seems we've had quite the turnout, and no one was really expecting so many aspiring world champions to enter, what with this being our first tournament in so long." He smiled nervously, as if afraid to offend the guests of honor. "Rest assured, the tournament shall begin shortly."

True to his word, a cacophony of trumpets and the screams of the assembled spectators drew Trunks' attention to the far side of the arena, where a pair of fighters was walking down the stone path toward the ring. Walking before them, his microphone at the ready, the aging tournament announcer waved to the crowd, the bright afternoon sunlight reflecting from his black glasses as he gazed around at the fans, obviously back in his element after so long.

"Ah, here we go," the plump tournament official said with a relieved sigh. "The first match is about to begin. If you'll excuse me, there are some minor matters I must see to." Trunks waved the man off, who bowed low before scuttling away toward the interior of the stadium.

"Finally," the half-Saiyan said with an excited grin. With the tournament about to start, it seemed that his dark mood had been forgotten. Standing to his feet, Trunks began cheering right along with the other spectators, and it wasn't long before his mother joined in as well.

"_Welcome, ladies and gentlemen_," the announcer's microphone-enhanced voice echoed above the noise of the crowd, "_to the twenty-fifth World Martial Arts Tournament!_"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something dark was approaching.

The fight below—as lackluster and amateur as all of the previous matches had been—continued on, for no one else seemed able to sense the oncoming doom that had so caught Trunks' attention. The crowd continued to cheer, the announcer continued to call out every move made by the fighters, and the sun continued to beat down from above, though it hovered notably closer to the horizon than it had at the tournament's start, some three or so hours earlier. Trunks stood to his feet, his body trembling slightly as an unnatural cold washed over him. Bulma looked up at her son, her eyes containing unasked questions. She reached out and touched his arm, gasping as she realized he was trembling.

"Trunks, what is it?" she finally asked, rising to her feet as well. Noticing that Trunks' attention was fixed somewhere on the western horizon, above the rim of the stadium, Bulma also gazed off into the same direction. "I don't see anything; what is it?"

"Something…" Trunks' words drifted off as a realization struck him. _This power, it feels _familiar_… It's_… His eyes widened and he spun to face his mother, a flicker of fear crossing his stern features before his Saiyan blood and its seemingly limitless source of confidence and power came to the fore. "Mom, listen to me: get out of here, _now_, and try as hard as you can to get everyone to go with you." Suddenly he snapped his attention back to the sky, gritting his teeth. "It's coming."

"What's coming?"

Trunks shook his head. "I don't know exactly what it is, Mom. It's that same _thing_ that attacked me at home, but this feels different somehow—stronger." _And it doesn't feel like it's alone either…_ "Go, now!" he shouted.

Nodding, her features clouded with fear, Bulma turned and ran toward the nearest exit.

"Everyone, listen to me!" Trunks shouted, trying in vain to be heard above the roaring crowd. "Damn it all, _listen_!" he screamed again, to no avail. A flicker of dark power from the sky above made him cry out a final time, but he realized that it was too late. Bracing himself and clenching his eyes shut, Trunks was still caught off guard by the sheer force of the detonation of energy that erupted from seemingly all around him. Shrieks of horror and shock echoed throughout the arena then were suddenly lost in the tumultuous explosion.

It seemed like an eternity of heat and pain before, finally, the conflagration died down. The atmosphere was still charged with dark power, and a heavy silence hung in the air as a mushroom-cloud of dust and debris rose from the center of the stadium, from where the ring and the surrounding grassy area had once been. A collective gasp of disbelief issued from the stunned spectators, and as Trunks lowered his guard and slowly opened his eyes, he felt a fury unlike anything that had ever gripped him before.

The entire floor of the stadium—the ring, the fighters, even the announcer—was _gone_. In their place was a gaping, smoking pit lined with the black, withered remnants of the once verdant grassy lawn. All around the newly-formed crater were the bodies of those unfortunate fans who had been sitting too close to the blast, for they hadn't been able to protect themselves against it as Trunks had. Taking his attention from this devastating scene, Trunks suddenly looked upward, and his teal eyes narrowed as he noticed four figures hovering high above.

The infuriated warrior clenched his fists, an aura of invisible power welling up around him, causing his long, purple hair to drift upward until it stood nearly on end. Slowly, the nimbus of energy flickered golden-yellow until, with a scream of anger, it exploded outward, blinding those few spectators who had turned their attention to the half-Saiyan. When the light died down, Trunks floated just above the ground, his body engulfed in the fiery golden aura of a Super Saiyan. His yellow, spiked-up hair drifted to and fro, moved by the invisible wind generated by his tremendous power, and his glowing green eyes were locked on the mysterious forms in the sky high above.

Without a word, like a bolt of lightning, Trunks shot skyward.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"He approaches."

The voice was strange, a sort of dual-layered sound, like a man's voice laid over that of a young woman's. The speaker—a slight, dark grey hooded figure—turned its head, looking past its two other companions toward the one who hovered just behind them, apart as usual. All four of the mysterious, powerful warriors were dressed alike, though their builds varied: one was of slightly larger stature than the speaker, with broader shoulders; another was massive, standing nearly eight feet tall and built like a walking mountain; the one who floated calmly apart from the others was somewhere in between this giant and the other one, though there was no mistaking from the tremendous power that he exuded that this particular creature was one to be obeyed.

"Calm yourself, Eurus," the smaller of the two closest cloaked figures said coolly. "Together, he is no threat to us. And remember," he continued in a dual-voice similar to the one who had first spoken, but definitely male, "we must eliminate this one to see our plans through to the end.

Eurus turned her attention back to the still-smoking ruin of the arena, and the rapidly approaching form of their enemy. "I do not fear him, Notus," she said, her strange, echoing voice sounding cold and calculated. "He is as nothing to us."

"Enough," the enormous one said, his unusual dual-voice far deeper and more menacing than either of the others'. "My Lord Boreas, what do you wish of us? Shall we destroy him now?"

"No, Zephyrus," the most powerful of the four—Boreas—responded in a dark voice similar to that of his three companions'. "Wait and see what he does first. This one intrigues me…"

At that, a slight chuckle emanated from within the hood of the one called Notus. "Is it because he managed to overpower you, Boreas?"

"Silence," the leader hissed. "He is here."

With a burst of power and a loud thunderclap, Trunks halted his ascent in the midst of the four grey-cloaked figures. As if unfazed by his thunderous entrance, the four of them slowly spaced themselves until Trunks was surrounded, though his blinding aura seemed to force them to keep their distance.

"You're all going to die, you know that?" Trunks asked, his voice filled with venom. "For what you've done here, for the people you've killed, I _will not_ let you live!" He turned his hateful glare from one opponent to the next, spinning slowly until he had studied each of them and stopping to settle that icy glare on the form of Boreas, who hovered with his arms crossed confidently over his chest. The supposed leader of the four was cloaked from head to toe, with only his hands—which were a deep green in color with fingers ending in short, sharp claws—exposed.

"You," Trunks said, pointing a finger at Boreas. "You're the one who attacked me that night, aren't you?"

Boreas made no comment, though he inclined his head slightly to acknowledge Trunks' surmise.

Slowly reaching over his shoulder to draw his deadly Galdrian blade, Trunks whispered between clenched teeth, "Then _you_ go first."

_To be continued…_

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**In the next chapter:**_

_**It's a four-on-one battle as Trunks faces off against his mysterious new enemies in the skies above Papaya Island. Will the revelations brought on by this battle push Trunks to victory, or will they simply make his fight that much harder?**_

_**Dragon Ball: Chaotic Universe**_

_**Chapter 2**_

_**Guardians Saga, Part II**_

"_**Retaliation."**_


	3. Chapter 2: Retaliation

**Dragon Ball:**

**Chaotic Universe**

**CHAPTER 2**

**Guardians Saga, Part II**

"**Retaliation."**

Trunks charged.

The flawless Galdrian blade arced toward Boreas, the air itself seeming to cry out as the weapon sliced through the cloaked warrior's wavering after image. The briefest moment of calm seemed to settle over the five assembled fighters who hovered high above the earth, and time slowed for Trunks as he watched his sword dissolve the illusion into nothing.

Chaos erupted.

Notus, Eurus, and Zephyrus were upon Trunks in a heartbeat, and the skilled Saiyan Prince found himself defending against a blurring flurry of attacks on all sides. Blustering auras of jet-black power burst into life around his three grey-hooded opponents, their very existence seeming to weaken Trunks' own nimbus of Super Saiyan energy. Pressure closed in around him, and he screamed in rage as he poured more strength into his aura, scattering and distracting his enemies for a precious moment. His battle-heightened reflexes warned him of the strike coming from above, and he nimbly flew aside as a bolt of dark energy tore through the space that he'd occupied just seconds before. Sheathing his sword, Trunks' hands traced an intricate pattern in the air before him as he gathered energy.

"Burning Attack!" he shouted, thrusting his hands upward toward the direction the last blast had originated. A beam of blinding golden light shot straight and true, and Boreas grunted as he batted the attack aside with a single clenched fist. _Damn_, Trunks thought. _He's stronger than I'd thought…_

"Cute trick," the enshrouded fighter said, somewhat breathlessly. His hooded head moved to stare at his trembling and still-clenched fist, which was badly burned and dripping a viscous purple liquid. "Had that connected, I would surely be dead right now…" He barely turned his attention back to Trunks in time, for the Saiyan was now directly in front of him, his arm pulled back for a powerful strike.

"You talk too much!" the Super Saiyan cried out, through an energy-laced punch meant for Boreas' head. Before the blow could connect, though, a massive sphere of black power crashed into him from the left, flooding his body with pain and knocking him aside.

Roaring, Boreas dashed toward his dazed opponent and delivered a bone-crushing blow to Trunks' ribs with his knee. Trunks' eyes widened from the pain as he spat out a mouthful of blood. Smirking within the shadow of his hood, Boreas raised both hands above his head and dropped a double-axe handle strike to the back of Trunks' neck. The attack had enough force to send the half-Saiyan careening toward the ground far, far below.

"I didn't ask you to interfere, Zephyrus," Boreas said coldly, turning his attention to where his companion hovered, arm still outstretched after having blasted Trunks long enough for his leader to attack.

When he replied, the gigantic man's dual-voice was subdued. "Forgive me, my Lord. I thought only to protect you." Saying nothing more, Zephyrus looked down at Papaya Island, a large green speck against the sprawling blue of the ocean. "He will no doubt survive."

"Yes," Boreas agreed, flexing the fingers of his injured hand slowly and watching as his dark purple blood dripped toward the island below. "He is far more powerful than I first thought." He began to slowly float downward. "Gather the others and follow me. We shall end this now, before he has another chance at us."

"Of course, my Lord," Zephyrus answered, bowing his head. Wordlessly, the massive warrior flew back toward Notus and Eurus, both of whom were still floating in a half-daze from Trunks' earlier discharge.

Ignoring Zephyrus' completely, Boreas continued his descent toward Papaya Island, the dark eyes concealed within his shadowy hood burning with the desire for destruction.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pain awoke him.

Trunks sat up slowly from the crater in which he lay, some seven or eight miles away from the tournament stadium. He had struck the ground hard, the impact enough to completely and instantly knock the Super Saiyan out of him. Wiping blood from his lips on the back of his hand, he smirked confidently, some part of him—the Saiyan part—reveling in the sensation of combat. He had only been toying with the four mysterious warriors, of course, just gauging their strength and measuring it against his own.

He found them lacking.

From high above, Trunks could feel the energy signature of Boreas approaching, with the others not far behind. He closed his eyes, gathering power slowly enough as to not attract attention from his airborne adversaries. Invisible waves of energy swirled around him, and his hair rose up into the familiar spikes of a Super Saiyan 2. Small bolts of blue lightning danced around him, crackling and sizzling as the burst in and out of existence. When he opened his eyes, his irises shone with a pure green light.

_I am going to tear them apart!_ one part of his mind growled, a mirror image of his father's arrogant smirk upon his lips. At that same time, though, a second thought came to him. _Wait… If Boreas was trying to take over my body when he attacked me that night, then there's a good chance that _all four of them_ are simply using the bodies of innocent people!_ All of his power suddenly drained from him with this realization, for he couldn't simply destroy them, knowing that the bodies that housed the four evil entities weren't their own. _Great, just great; what am I supposed to do now?_

With Boreas, Zephyrus, Eurus, and Notus quickly approaching, Trunks could think of only one thing. He would fight them and do everything in his power to incapacitate them, but if he was left with no other choice, the half-Saiyan would kill any one of them without a second thought. He wouldn't let anything shatter the peace that had been so dearly paid for with the blood and lives of his friends, even if it meant killing those four innocent people who had been taken over by… by _whatever_ they were.

_And who knows_, Trunks thought hopefully. _Maybe in the process I'll come up with some way to destroy the four of them _without_ killing their host bodies._

The thought was heavily shadowed by doubt.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Boreas touched down.

The shadowy warrior made no move to attack, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he seemed to studying Trunks, who stood unmoving as a light breeze ruffled his long, lavender hair. A moment later, Zephyrus and the two others landed lightly behind their leader, each of them assuming an offensive stance in preparation for the battle that was sure to come.

Finally, Boreas spoke.

"Have you given up, perhaps hoping that I'll grant you a painless death?" The question was followed by silence as his menacing, dual-layered voice seemed to echo as if spoken from some great distance. He tilted his hooded-head to one side slightly, as if regarding his opponent curiously. "Well?"

"Who are you?" Trunks asked, clenching his fists as he took a step forward. "Why are you doing this?" He didn't really care whether or not the cloaked figure before him answered, he was just buying as much time as he could while he desperately tried to think of what to do.

"Why?" Boreas repeated icily, uncrossing his arms to gesture in a wide arc around him. As he did this, the sleeve of his cloak slid down nearly to his elbow, revealing a forearm of dark green with a strange, pinkish-colored muscular tissue.

_Wait a minute_, Trunks thought, startled by this familiar and entirely unexpected sight. _It can't be_… His eyes widened, his jaw dropping in shock.

Boreas went on.

"What we do with this planet is _none_ of your concern, boy. This world belongs to us, and we shall do with it whatever we wish." He pointed a clawed finger at Trunks as he went on. "For too long has this planet been without the proper… _guidance_. And we will be the ones to provide that guidance. Soon—"

Before he could finish, Boreas cried out in surprise as Trunks leapt toward him, light glimmering upon his drawn blade. Lashing out faster than the dark warrior could follow, the Galdrian sword cleanly severed his arm at the elbow, a gout of thick purple blood filling the air as the limb fell limply to the ground. Boreas screamed in pain, clutching the bleeding stump of his right arm with his left hand as he staggered back. Trunks didn't have a chance to follow through, though, as the others dashed toward him, separating him from Boreas.

"Lord Boreas!" Zephyrus shouted, the volume and ferocity in his voice nearly causing Trunks to black out.

The enormous fighter unleashed a kick with one of his massive legs, which Trunks managed to block at the last moment. Doing so knocked the Saiyan Prince off balance, for Zephyrus' leg was nearly as large as Trunks' entire body. Cart-wheeling aside and springing into the air with his open hand, Trunks immediately swung his blade full circle around him, and was rewarded by a cry of pain as the weapon bit into the side of Eurus' head. The wound was shallow, for there hadn't been much power behind it, but it was more than enough to slice through the female warrior's hood.

Eurus flew back and upward into the air, her hood falling aside to reveal the face of a beautiful young human woman. Her shoulder-length hair was dark, with a reddish-brown glint to it when struck by the steadily-setting sun, and she gazed down upon Trunks with lifeless, glazed-over eyes as she pressed her left hand against the cut on her cheek. Blood seeped between her fingers as an icy hatred filled those disconcerting eyes.

"Bastard," she growled, the chilling tone of her male/female dual-voice sending chills down Trunks' spine. With a shriek of rage, she dove at the teal-eyed fighter, clashing with him from the front as Zephyrus and Notus closed in from behind.

Again Trunks found himself faced with an enemy on all sides, and he let his mind drift as reflexes honed by years of intense training went to work. A slight change in the air pressure to his right warned Trunks of an incoming blow, and he flew up higher into the air as Notus threw a straight punch that would probably have removed Trunks' head from his shoulders. His new position in the sky did him little good though, as Zephyrus and Eurus both spun and tossed two baseball-sized globes of crackling dark energy toward him. The attacks sped upward with alarming speed, and it was only his lightning fast reflexes that allowed him to dodge the first sphere and narrowly deflect the second. Pain shot through his arm and he faltered for a moment.

"Got you!" a venomous, double-layered voice shouted from behind him.

Somehow Notus had managed to get behind Trunks during Zephyrus and Eurus' attack. Trunks tried to turn to face the grey-cloaked warrior, but Notus was too fast, and he grabbed hold of the Saiyan from behind, locking him tightly into a hold that Trunks found himself unable to break. Notus tightened the hold, forcing Trunks to drop his sword to the ground as he struggled for breath. Zephyrus and Eurus drifted casually upward, stopping just in front of the immobilized half-Saiyan.

"Well done, Notus," Zephyrus complimented, nodding in appreciation. "Now, he is at our mercy. But be wary," he quickly added, his deep, rumbling voice low and quiet. "Remember the power that he showed while fighting us above. Now he holds back for some reason. Strange…"

"Not so strange, Zephyrus," Eurus said softly, her dead eyes narrowed in a glare of hatred as she gazed at Trunks, who continued to struggle against Notus' hold. "I find it quite obvious, in fact: he fears to retaliate against us, for in doing so he may destroy these meat-bags we've acquired." A distant, echoing, chilling laugh escaped her. "All that power, yet he refuses to use it. Excellent." She looked to Zephyrus, who nodded once.

"It is time to end this," the giant said.

"Wait."

The two dark warriors turned to see Boreas rising up behind them, Trunks' sword held in his miraculously restored right arm. Viscous purple blood and a strange, pale green liquid dripped down the length of his exposed forearm as he brandished the blade before him. He floated silently forward, holding out the weapon and offering it to Zephyrus.

"Finish him with _this_," Boreas said, handing the sword over to his ally. "Let him taste the same pain that Eurus and I felt." With that he drifted back, giving Zephyrus and Eurus room to work.

"Yes, my Lord," they both said, inclining their heads in thanks.

"I… I knew… it," Trunks uttered between gasps for breath. Notus tightened his grip on the half-Saiyan, causing him to grunt in pain. "How did you… where did you find… a Namekian?" He cried out as Eurus flew forward and delivered a punishing backhanded strike to his face, snapping his head back and wrenching his neck.

Slowly Boreas reached up to grasp either side of his hood before pulling it back to reveal the features that were the hallmark of the Namekian race: dark green skin, thick brow-ridges, pointed ears, and a pair of short antennae that protruded from his forehead. His eyes, like those of Eurus, were milky white, like the eyes of a corpse or a blind man.

"I see there is no reason to hide my appearance from you after all," he said, the malicious, dual-voice sounding even more menacing when coupled with the familiar Namekian features. "After you managed to repel me, I was forced to find another host body, and though this Namek's power is not as great as your own, it is enough to wipe you off of the face of my planet."

"Your… _your_ planet?"

Boreas smirked. "Kill him."

Gathering as much energy as he could in the split second before Zephyrus was about to skewer him on his own weapon, Trunks screamed as an aura of brilliant yellow power erupted outward from him. Notus, now unable to maintain his hold over the Super Saiyan, was blow backward with a strangled cry of shock. Thrusting his arm forward, Trunks fired off a blast of ki that took Zephyrus squarely in the face, knocking his hood back as he grunted in pain. The mountainous man released his hold on the sword as his hands flew to his singed face, and Trunks shot forward with lightning speed to retrieve the falling weapon. Without wasting a single second, the Super Saiyan spun and buried his foot in Zephyrus' abdomen, and was rewarded with the sound of cracking ribs. The enormous fighter was sent flying back to crash into Boreas, who was unable to dodge aside in time.

Eurus rushed Trunks, her arm drawn back and a ball of crackling energy springing to life in the palm of her hand. Before she could launch the attack, though, Trunks twisted around in her direction, slashing with his sword and forcing her back, so great was her fear of being cut by the Galdrian weapon. He took advantage of her trepidation and closed the gap between them, lashing out with a furious combination of punches and kicks and finishing with a roundhouse kick that—had he not been holding back—would have cut the young woman in half.

With all of his opponents seemingly out of commission for the moment, Trunks let his power relax just a little, while still retaining his aura of Super Saiyan light. He knew he had precious little time to come up with a plan before they regained their senses and rushed him again, but _still_ he was at a loss for what to do.

Before he could ponder the situation further, an explosion of black energy engulfed him from behind as Notus fired off a volley of attacks safely from a distance. Within the rapidly increasing conflagration, Trunks sheathed his sword and spun, raising his arms before him and using his own ki to deflect the merciless attacks. Suddenly Notus burst through the haze before him, bashing Trunks aside with a blow to the half-Saiyan's head. His vision filled with dancing lights, Trunks shook his head to clear it as a second strike followed, this time an uppercut to the chest that caused his breath to explode out from his lungs. Reaching out, Notus grabbed a handful of Trunks' golden-yellow hair, wrenching his head up to look him in the eyes.

Like the others, Notus had forsaken his all-concealing hood, exposing his appearance to the half-Saiyan warrior. He was a young human male, with jet-black hair that spiked out slightly in the front while the back was pulled into a long ponytail. He glared at Trunks with those familiar, corpse-like eyes as a cruel grin spread across his face. He spat at Trunks, who still managed to rein in his anger, though deep inside his Saiyan blood was screaming at him to just destroy this foolish opponent.

"You're going to pay for the pain you've caused my brethren and I," Notus whispered. "When we are finished with you, there will be nothing left but—" A pair of thin beams of energy shot from Trunks' eyes, causing Notus to release him as he dodged aside.

Trunks immediately struck, raising his leg and spinning to bring his heel crashing down against the top of his adversary's head. Notus screamed in pain as he fell to the ground, smashing against the unyielding earth and kicking up a tremendous cloud of dust and debris. Sensing another high power level behind him, Trunks turned and found himself nearly face to face with Zephyrus.

"You fight well, even when faced with many," the enormous fighter begrudgingly complimented. "But you would do well to simply give up, for we _will_ eventually overwhelm you." With one massive hand, Zephyrus took hold of the front of his long grey cloak, pulling it from his body with a single motion and tossing it to the ground below.

Trunks moved back several feet and gasped, for the body that Zephyrus had chosen as his host was most certainly _not_ human, or that of any other race that Trunks was familiar with. His skin was dark, as though he'd spent most of his life outdoors beneath the hot sun, and he now wore only a pair of black and dark blue baggy pants, cinched at the waist with a belt of a paler shade of blue. The mysterious alien's hair was silver, but that didn't seem to be the result of age, rather it appeared to be his natural color. Two long, pointed ears jutted out from the long, silver hair, each adorned with several small, golden rings and trinkets. Strange black designs, like tribal tattoos, decorated Zephyrus' face and bare torso, continuing even down his massive, heavily muscled arms.

Spreading his arms out to the sides slowly, Zephyrus began to power up, a shroud of chaotic black energy flickering into existence around him. His muscles bulged, and he clenched his teeth as a low growl escaped him, causing chills to run down Trunks' spine. The very atmosphere around Trunks seemed to tremble as Zephyrus continued, his dead eyes locked on the determined Saiyan Prince all the while.

_Unbelievable_, Trunks thought, assuming a ready stance in preparation for the assault that he knew was coming. _This guy's even stronger than their leader, unless that Boreas character is holding back…_ As if the simple act of thinking his name was a summons, Boreas appeared a slight distance behind Zephyrus, his tattered grey cloak drifting about him in the swirling wind that was being generated by the mountainous fighter's display. Looking past Zephyrus, Trunks studied Boreas, his cold green eyes filled with wrath. _I have to think of something, and fast._

Without warning, Zephyrus was suddenly upon him. A massive, power-charged fist plowed into Trunks, who was knocked aside like an insect only to be struck from the opposite side by Zephyrus _other_ fist. Trunks had been expecting the second strike, though, and he gritted his teeth as he held his own arms—trembling from the exertion—between the crushing hands of the giant. Slowly Trunks found himself pushing Zephyrus' fists away, and he managed to shoot upward as the possessed fighter lifted his leg in an attempt to crush Trunks' ribs. Higher and higher into the air the Super Saiyan flew, his aura leaving a blazing golden streak through the sky as Zephyrus followed doggedly after.

Trunks turned his head to look back, smirking as he noticed the other three—Eurus, Boreas, and a slightly worse-for-wear Notus—following after Zephyrus, their pitch black auras appearing as a blight against the darkening evening sky. He returned his attention straight up, gathering energy and preparing to put his plan into action. It was true that his conscience wouldn't let him kill the four possessed fighters, but he'd do everything in his power to keep them from harming his planet, even if that meant a great deal of very painful physical punishment.

The air began to thin, and finally it was time.

Coming to a screeching halt mid-flight, Trunks spun around, screaming as he called upon all of his Super Saiyan 2 might. A sound like a thunder-crack split the sky as a blinding nimbus of lightning-laced golden power erupted around him, bolstering his strength and causing his muscles to expand as he summoned up even more power. Looking down, he saw his four enemies falter in their advance, though he had to give them some credit, for even after this massive display of raw power, they _still_ came. As they neared, Trunks pulled both of his arms back, channeling _all _of his tremendous strength into each of his hands. With a roar, he thrust his arms forward, pouring this accumulated energy out from his body and through his open hands.

A single, incredibly vast beam of power shot down ward, and as it reached the four startled warriors, it suddenly split into _four_ separate attacks. Notus and Eurus screamed in agony as they were engulfed in the pure Super Saiyan light, and though the pain was just as crippling for Boreas and Zephyrus, they managed to contain their exclamations to mere grunts and gasps. A light brighter than the sun lit the dark sky in a false morning, and the four evil entities—and the poor bodies that they had commandeered—were blasted downward deep into the ocean that now lay directly below them. Great founts of seawater shot skyward only to rain back down seconds later with the fury of a tropical storm.

Throughout all of this, Trunks remained aloft, his Super Saiyan power depleted and a translucent flicker of blue energy around his body. He shielded his eyes from the dazzling display as his long, purple hair whipped around his face and neck as the backlash of wind and power buffeted him. Finally the unnatural storm died down, and Trunks slowly opened his eyes as he gazed down at the roiling, angry sea. A cold, icy hand seemed to close around his heart as he wondered if, perhaps, he had put too much power into that last attack.

_For the sake of the innocent bodies they've possessed, I hope they're alright_, he though as he turned away and began the long flight back home to West City, where his mother had no doubt fled. _But if they were destroyed… At least it was for a greater good._ Knowing that—if any of the four had survived—his home at Capsule Corporation would be the first place they'd begin their search for him, Trunks picked up the pace a bit. He and his mother would have to find somewhere to hide, at least for the time being. But only, of course, if any of the four evil entities had survived... No, somewhere deep inside, Trunks knew that this was far from over.

Rather than distressing him, though, this feeling seemed to invigorate him, and he realized that for the first time in five years, he was truly doing what he was good at.

_To be continued…_

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**In the next chapter:**_

_**Realizing that he has only succeeded in angering Boreas and the others, Trunks desperately searches for a way to stop them without killing their hosts. His answers lie deep in the desert, with an ancient crone of supposedly limitless knowledge…**_

_**Dragon Ball: Chaotic Universe**_

_**Chapter 3**_

_**Guardians Saga, Part III**_

"_**Witch Hunt."**_


End file.
